It's Been A While . . . .

. . . and I won't bore you with the details. ;)

I've been having a hard time thinking of anything positive to post lately, which, when you feel like that's what you need to do, makes it even harder. But I suppose that's just the way it is.

Spring in the homeland has been beautiful, but I wonder where the hell it went. It seems like the weeks are a steady march to the weekends which are a quick trip back the weekdays. I want things to slow down so I can catch my breath. But what you want and what you know aren't always the same things. So in the end we'll just tread water and do our damnedest to catch up when we can.

You ever pour a gin and tonic and pour too much gin? I know, too much gin never seems like a problem. Silly me! But right now, the warmth of the gin is overpowering the the ice and tonic. It's warmth sinks down my throat and into my chest. While it wasn't what I was wanting or craving, it feels good. I can smell the cool night air with the threat of rain on it and the warmth is even more welcomed.

Yesterday my brer brought over three mares and stud colt he's having cut on Tuesday. I forgot how stupid horses can be and the violent nature of, well, nature. Even in the society of horses there's a power struggle going on. They kick, nick and buck, chasing each other over the recently irrigated grass, all vying for position. The ones who were always picked on see this as their opportunity to gain rank on the other horses. The traditionally dominant fight back to maintain position. Then there's running and thundering around the pasture. I think they're beautiful. Brer thinks they're stupid. But I've always put on my pastorial glasses when looking at this life and all involved in it.

Being here again reminds me of where I thought I wanted to go and what I wanted to be. But the truth is, even if I had pursued those paths, they would have led to nowhere. Land is expensive. Equipment is expensive. Livestock is expensive. Though at times I crave the honesty of the work of that other life, I'm more thankful for weekends and evenings. I hate the travel that takes me away from home, but I also remember my old man. He more or less worked in the fields around our house. But he was never able to leave or take much time off. And though at times I hate the shit hole "Town" is, I have to remember one thing: There is no way in hell I would survive the city. I hated it too much.

So, in my late night ramble, I get nowhere. And that's fine. I think it's better than the dark places and shadows that have been sticking out in my mind lately. As much as I want to get those out there at times, somethings are best left alone. What is it they say about sleeping mutts or whatever?

Here's to rain on dirt and round about roads through nowhere.